A Spoonful of Vanilla Ice Cream
by CrystalLotus98
Summary: List of things Gilbert wasn't allowed to do at Roderich's home: 1. Wake the aristocrat up with Rammstein 2. Try to steal Elizaveta's frying pans 3. Eat vanilla ice cream in a short-sleeved shirt on a hot day. Prustria
1. Chapter 1

**A non-angsty PrussiaxAustria fic ahoy! This idea came to me while I was eating ice cream, and I thought it would be a funny story. And is was, I smiled the whole time writing this. Poor Roddykins, I should write some fluff for him later.**

**If I owned Hetalia, England would be a girl. Because Igiko is awesome. And maybe Prussia...**

**

* * *

  
**

It was a criminally hot day in Vienna, Austria. And the Edelstein manor wasn't spared from the blistering heat. Windows that were usually left open to let in the refreshing air from the Alps were tightly closed to keep the cold air inside. The heat was only the beginning of the young lord of the house's problems; so long as he knew a certain carmine eyed silverette, his troubles were never limited. The aforementioned annoyance was currently sitting on the large couch in Roderich's music room, legs crossed and a magazine propped open in his lap.

Now, this normally wouldn't be a big deal, seeing as how Gilbert had made a habit of treating Roderich's home like his own. After decades upon decades of dealing with the Prussian barging into his house, the aristocratic nation had grown used to it. Today however…however…

Gilbert was eating ice cream. _Vanilla_ ice cream. In a short-sleeved top that just _happened_ to practically hug his body. This was the source of Roderich's troubles. He couldn't stop staring at him. Oh, he tried to stop, Gott bless him he did! But despite his best attempts to quell the very improper thoughts that were running rampant in his head, (Gilbert truly was corrupting him) via his beloved piano; nothing worked.

The Prussian in question seemed to be far too absorbed in his magazine to notice the Austrian's dilemma. No, no that couldn't be it. Were that the case, it wouldn't seem that Gilbert was actually going out of his way to lick the spoonfuls of the dessert as _sensually_ as possible, that accursed brat must have planned this!

Suppressing a growl of annoyance, he turned back around to face his piano. Long slender fingers pressed against the black and white ebony, eyes closed to clear his mind as his fingers began to play a soothing melody they had memorized so long ago. Roderich's musical therapy seemed to actually be working this time, until yet another image of shirtless Gilbert drifted into the edge of his consciousness.

The sudden mash of the keys was enough to make Gilbert jump slightly. Crimson eyes torn away from his magazine to look at the slightly slouched back of his unwilling Austrian companion

"The hell was that?" The silverette inquired, placing the spoon back into the bowl of ice cream on the table in front of him. Roderich, realizing how uncharacteristic he must have looked, straightened his posture and adjusted the rims of his glasses, more out of habit than need.

"None of your business." The brunette almost snapped back, glancing over his shoulder at the littlie-surprised Prussian, and the spill on his shirt. It was in his nature to notice something as small as a spill on someone's front, and if he didn't say anything, no doubt Gilbert wouldn't notice it.

"Don't snap at me 'cause your precious muse seems to have died in the presence of my awesome, Specs." The ex-nation replied snarkily as possible. Taking up his magazine and snapping it before continuing his reading.

That spill was so _there_…

"You have a spill on your shirt." Roderich could have mentally slapped himself. The albino raised a brow before looking down at himself, frowning slightly at the spill before scooping it from his shirt to his finger.

Oh Gott…_Oh Gott_

A fierce blush spread on the brunette's face as the not-innocent dessert covered digit was popped into Gilbert's mouth; being sucked clean of the cool substance (Roderich swore he saw Gilbert's tongue for just a second.)

Once again, a sound that was so foreign for the instrument resounded throughout the room.

"Christ, Frills! Twice within the hour?"

"Get out."

"Wha-?"

Roderich abruptly stood from his piano bench and walked over to the couch, grabbing the Prussian roughly by the arm and dragging him towards the door.

He would be damned if Gilbert saw the discomfort that he was causing in the Austrian's trousers.

"Out." The violet-eyed nation said sternly, opening the door and all but shoving the other man out, the only thing stopping him from slamming the door was Gilbert himself

"What's _your _problem?" Gilbert asked, both confused and annoyed that the aristocrat was throwing someone as awesome as him out of the music room. He didn't even do anything this time!

"My problem is _you_." The brunette said coolly, hoping that the keen-eyed war loving nation couldn't see the prominent blush on his cheeks. Finally, the door was closed and locked, Roderich leaning his back against the fine wood, willing the tightness in his pants away.

"What about my ice cream?" Gilbert almost whined from the other side. This question earned the Prussian a rather hard slam from the pianist's side.

* * *

**Well, this was fun to write. What do you guys think? Was Gilbo doing it on purpose? I think he was, since I can totally see him doing that o3ob  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is chapter 2, are you prepared? This chapter is dedicated to FortunesRevolver, who suggested I write a sequel. And is an amazing writer, go read her stuff. Now. **

** Here's to you, hopefully you'll like it~!**

**

* * *

  
**

Gilbert blinked at the finely carved oak doors. Then glared at them as if they were the source of his problems, and if looks could kill, those doors would have caught on fire. Where did Roderich get off, throwing the incarnation of all things awesome out like that?! Okay, so he kinda 'accidentally' stole some of his sheet music and ran them through a paper shredder, so Roderich _might_ have been a little mad about that still. But Gilbert apologized! He even went out of his way to find a copy of that exact sheet music and give it to the priss, (mostly because the said brunette always sent him glares that would make _Russia_ shrink back. And as pleasing an image as Russia cowering in a corner was, it still creeped the hell out of Gilbert) so all should be well.

The soft piano music began again; the very light strain withheld within the notes would have been missed if not for the Prussian's extremely sharp hearing. Though, listening to Roderich coax music out of that thing for several years might have had something to do with it. More important than the music, was that bowl of ice cream he had been so cruelly separated from, melting in the sun pouring through the window. Waiting for the door to open was really out of the question if he wanted his frozen treat at least somewhat still cold, seeing as how the aristocrat could stay in that room for literally _hours._ Normally, the Prussian would have just gone downstairs and get more, if the bowl didn't have ice cream he had scrapped from the bottom of the tub to get before they ran out.

The door was locked…and years of Gilbert sneaking into the house through the music room windows had probably taught the Austrian to lock them…

A little light bulb went off over Gilbert's head; the lock on the music room window was broken! If he was quiet, he could sneak back in, easily! It would be even easier, since once Roderich really got into his music, it took a lot to get him out. A smirk spread across the carmine eyed man's face as he turned on his heel and glided down the hall towards the foyer and reached out to open one of the overly large front doors.

"You have been thwarted by my awesome once again, Austria~" He said to himself chuckling, his momentary joy was cut short when a blast of hot air slammed into him. He could almost _feel_ his lips begin to chap. He hurriedly, closed the front door and ran around the side of the house, flipping off the sun briefly before he leapt over one of Roderich's shrubs, doing a ninja roll as he landed because he was just that awesome.

The lavish, dark red curtains of the music room were drawn with the intent to keep the sun and the man from peeking in. Gilbert stepped nimbly over the short, perfectly trimmed bushes in front of the window and eased a panel open. As expected, it wasn't locked. The Prussian smirked to himself again and crawled in through the window, smooth as silk. Or, it seemed that way, the only thing that had stopped his plan from being so perfect was that, once he had come out of the curtains, Roderich was looking at him, his facial expression one of half-expectancy,

"I knew I should have fixed that lock." Roderich sighed out, "Close the window, it's blistering out." He demanded, turning away from the other man.

Well, at least the bug that was up Roderich's ass had crawled out. Gilbert thought as he closed the window with not nearly as much care as he took opening it. Crimson eyes glanced at the bowl sitting innocently on the coffee table. Now, Gilbert would have gone straight for his prize, but he was still pissed that the priss had just thrown him out like that. So, he opted to plop down on the bench next to the pianist, straddling it.

"What the hell's up with you?" He asked bluntly, violet eyes flashed over to him before flicking back,

"None of your business."

"Did you want some alone time with your," Gilbert ghosted his fingers over the keys of the piano, "_lover_?" Roderich put both hands on the key lid in warning, not once looking at the Prussian. Remembering that the last time he had touched Roderich's piano, he had the lid slammed on his hand, the taller man drew it away as if he had been shocked. The other slowly slid his fingers off the lid and sent a short glare to the ex-nation.

"That wasn't it," Roderich said "and for the last time, Gilbert. I am _not_ in love with my piano."

"Could have fooled me!"

"Just take your stupid ice cream and go."

"Not until you tell me why you kicked me out!"

Gilbert looked at Roderich's profile for a few moments, although knowing that he would never get an answer from the blank expression on the brunette's face. His eyes trailed down to the his lap, hands folded presently except…not. They were…slightly raised? Without warning, Gilbert reached for the aristocrat's wrists and ripped his hands from his lap,

"What do you think you're doing?!" Roderich cried, struggling to get free of Gilbert's grip

"Ooooooh. So _that's_ what your problem was. Having a little _uprising_ in Silesia, Roddy~?" A fierce blush spread on the Austrian's face as something sparked within Gilbert's eyes. "I can _help_ you with that~" And yet again, without warning, the Prussian released one of Roderich's wrists palmed his crotch, earning a delicious hitched breath and a moan; followed by a light squirm underneath his touch. The Prussian chuckled huskily, the sound suddenly cut off by a pair of lips attaching themselves to his own.

Oh yeah, Roddy was _horny_. Lips were nipped and licked, asking for permission to enter, and then soft sounds of tongues sloppily meshing together filled the room. Somewhere down the line of this make-out session, Roderich practically _begged _Gilbert to finish him off. And to deny such a request would be just plain _cruel._ So, standing from the bench and picking the aristocrat up bridal style, arms wrapping around his neck and lips being attacked by lips, he somehow managed to unlock the music room door and walked down the painfully long hallway towards one of the nearest bedrooms.

* * *

**Look Ma, my first groping scene! Okay, that's a big lie; my Gilbert and Briana's Roderich have groped each other many-a-time. But that's another story for another time, ladies and…mostly ladies. I'll leave the lemon to writers who have more talent than I do. Until the next plot-bunny bounces unto my life, ciao~**


End file.
